Break the Silence
by TheRealRenee
Summary: // Chapter 6 now up \\ Someone is playing a sick game. Trish/Christian, Trish/Jericho, Lita/Edge, Randy, others
1. Default Chapter

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Her brow furrowed as she tossed about restlessly in her unnatural half-slumber, soft mewling sounds escaping her. 

'You hate Chris Jericho...' a voice spoke softly in her head, and she reacted physically to the statement, for it was not true. In fact, it could not be further from the truth. 'Chris Jericho is your enemy... You hate Chris Jericho... hate... Chris... Jericho...' 

The young woman's subconscious mind would not accept the words, and she felt as though there were shackles on her brain. She did *not* hate Chris - she *couldn't*... 

"No..." That single word left her lips in a mere whisper, her brow breaking out into a sweat as she continued struggling restlessly in the bed upon which she lay. Why was she hearing the strange masculine voice? She *didn't* hate Chris... She *loved* him! 

Images rushed through her mind, ones that were frightening in their clarity. She saw herself, naked and straddled atop a nude man, riding him with a fierce intensity - her body taught and stiffening above the as yet faceless man, as she couldn't grasp his identity. The sound of her cries of ecstasy, intermingled with his own moans of pleasure nearly deafened her. 

She saw herself and the man stopping to change positions, and she turned somewhat to get on her hands and knees. Hastily, her partner, whose identity was still a mystery, knelt behind her, and she felt his length and hardness as he once again plunged into her, his thrusts hard and fast in urgency. 

A soft moan found its way from her lips as she scene shifted. Now, she was strapped to a chair, her wrists and ankles secured to the piece of furniture. She tried to scream as rough hands pulled at her obscenely, her long sleeve shoved up to expose one pale arm. Then, the cotton swab, the syringe... Oh, dear God, she needed help. Someone had to come here, find her in this place and save her. 

She opened her mouth to release the scream she'd felt building inside of her as the needle suddenly pierced her flesh - only to have a mere squeak escape instead. Her eyes wide, she watched as the clear liquid from the syringe was squeezed into her vein. No... Not again... She couldn't take anymore of this... 

In moments, her entire aura had transformed due to the substance now freely running through her bloodstream. Now calm and placid, she sat up straight, her head up and facing forward. She didn't even blink as a myriad of images and words flashed over the large screen before her. 

Her brain, calm yet rapt, concentrated on what was laying, her ears also pricked for the spoken words. 

'Not your friend... Your enemy...' 

She instantly recognized Chris Jericho's image on the screen, the words he'd spoken that night having cut her to the quick when she'd heard them that fateful night... 

'If you thought the Paris Hilton sex tape was hot, just wait till next week's Highlight Reel...' 

Some new images quickly shot past before her wide, unblinking eyes, so fast a conscious mind wouldn't notice them. But the woman's subconscious was not missing a single thing, and these as well absorbed in her brain. 

In her semi-conscious state, her body stiffened again as she willed herself to awaken. She was in deep trouble, that much she knew - and she was in desperate need of help. 

'Wake up!' she screamed inside of herself. Her eyelids fluttered as though she were in REM sleep. After the struggle lasted a good few more minutes that seemed more like an eternity, she got her wish - she woke up. 

She glanced quickly around the room, her eyes wide with the fright of the dream. Oh, God... Her breathing heavy, she was unconsciously, instinctively clutching the blanket up to her chest as though for protection... But protection against what, or whom? 

As she rose from the bed warily, her gaze sweeping over everything in the room, she began to calm down. Her heartbeat returned to normal, as did her pulse and breathing. She damn near sighed with relief at the knowledge that everything looked normal, not insane and unthinkable as she'd expected. No syringes or brainwashing materials were in sight. 

But why would she expect to see such things? 

She was alone in the room. Chris' handsome face flashed through her head as she noted the suitcase that was not her own... 

She laughed aloud at her own fears. she was being silly. Chris was probably out, perhaps getting her some breakfast or flowers. 

She crossed the room to the bag, then bent to sort through his things. Her hope was to come up with one of his shirts to wear, just to feel him close to her, to inhale that special masculine scent that was purely Chris. 

Smiling, the young woman reached into the bag... 

Her smile vanished. These garments did not belong to him... 

A quick vision flashed through her mind, nearly giving her a migraine in the process. There was a face - she saw it. 

Trish Stratus began to scream uncontrollably, her sanity seemingly trickling away with an unfathomable knowledge.   
  
  
  


Part 2 

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	2. Chapter 2

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She was hysterical as her voice finally died out, her throat hoarse from the scream. 

Oh, God... She dropped the offending shirt she'd been holding as if it were a flame that burned her skin. She had to get out of here, out and to Chris... Chris would help her. He would rescue her from this madness. 

Trish's brown eyes grew wide as she suddenly realized something... The water from the shower in the bathroom had been running. Its drone had been so soft, she'd barely even been aware of it. But it had stopped, and she heard the sound of someone's movements within. 

She was breathing fast and heavily as the handle on the door began to give way. Christ... He was coming out - probably to get her, torment and rape her again! 

The door opened, and the tiny blonde squeezed her eyes shut, hands outstretched as though warding off the boogieman. 

Christian, a towel swathed around his hips, emerged from the bathroom. His blue eyes widened as he took in the fright on Trish's face and in her posture. She'd been sound asleep on the bed when he'd gotten up to shower. He figured she must have had a bad dream or something. 

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked, concerned as he inched toward her. 

The blonde's eyes snapped open - widely, and the Canadian man frowned at what he saw. She was most definitely terrified. 

"No... L-leave me alone!" 

"Trish?" Christian's frown deepened as he took another step closer to her. 

"Don't come near me!" she cried, tears forming in her brown eyes. Those orbs darted back and forth as she surveyed the room, as though seeking a means of escape. She resembled a deer caught in headlights. 

"What? Trish, honey, what is it? What's wrong?" he implored, his heart nearly breaking at the idea of her fearing him. He would never hurt Trish, never. 

The diva backed away from him, her breathing ragged as she turned her head quickly from side-to-side. She located something with which to use as a weapon and snatched it up. 

"Back off!" she spat, and the blonde man winced at her words and the way she was wielding the wickedly spiked, heeled boot. 

"Trish..." he said, managing somehow to keep his voice level, soft and calm. "Baby, please tell me what's wrong... I-I want to *help* you." 

"Fuck you!" she yelled, her lovely face furious. Her teeth gritten as she glared at the offensive short-haired blond man. 

Christian winced as her curse struck his ears. He didn't understand... What had gotten into Trish? She was acting more than peculiar - crazy. 

"Sweetie, I don't-" 

"And you *won't*, either!" she shrilled, angry enough to hurl herself at him to rake his eyes out with her long, manicured nails. Instead, her demeanor returned to its previous terror, and the petite woman turned and fled from the hotel room. 

The blonde diva ran down the hallway in a mad dash, her mind whirling. She turned and found herself in front of the hotel room she knew someone very important to her was staying in. Her mind made up, she began to frantically knock. 

"Come on - be there... be there..." she cried in a mantra. 

The door opened a moment later, and a pair of hazel eyes examined her for a beat, concern on the face of their owner. 

"Trish..." Lita didn't bother voicing any questions as she instantly ushered the other woman inside.   
  
  
  


Part 3 

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	3. Chapter 3

The moment Lita ushered her into the hotel room, Trish broke down, bursting into tears. 

"Oh, God..." The redheaded diva wrapped an arm around the small blonde, exchanging a helpless glance with her boyfriend, Edge. 

The tall blond man, who'd been sitting on the bed, rushed over to the two women. He gave Trish a quick once-over, a look of concern etched on his handsome face. Together, he and Lita led the distraught blonde to the small table across the room. 

"Trish... honey, what happened?" The redhead's voice was calm and soft as she spoke to her best friend. She knelt in front of the little blonde as the young woman sank down into a plush armchair. 

Edge stood nearby, beside his girlfriend, his concern growing as the diva continued to sob. There was something about Trish's crying that struck him - it wasn't merely out of ordinary sorrow or heartache. No... the sobs coming from the petite diva were mournful in a different sort of way. But he still couldn't quite put his finger on it. 

Trish raised one hand to her forehead, some strands of her golden hair becoming partly plastered to her face thanks to her tears. 

"Trish...?" Lita reached out and grasped the other diva's hand. 

The blonde paused in her weeping as she met her best friend's concerned hazel gaze. Terror swept through her as she wondered how in hell she was going to tell - how could she explain when she hardly believed it herself? She felt as though she were in a living nightmare. 

"I... He... he..." 

Lita and Edge exchanged glances, the blond man's brows knitting together in confusion as the redhead's eyes widened. The tall Canadian knelt beside Lita, coming to eye-level with the sobbing woman. 

"Trish, look at me," the blond man said. Only when she did, did he continue. "Does this have anything to do with my brother?" 

The diva squeezed her eyes shut upon the mention of Christian, her hands balling into fists. In seconds, she drew her small form into a tight position on the chair, her knees drawing up against her chest. She was actually whimpering. 

"Oh, my God..." the redhead muttered. "What the hell is happening to her, Edge?" 

The tall Canadian shook his head, his gaze briefly meeting that of his girlfriend's before returning to the little blonde. 

"Only she can tell us, babe." 

Trish's crying ceased for a moment as she looked imploringly at her friends, her tearful brown eyes traveling from Edge to Lita. 

"H-help me...!" 

"Sweetie, we want to do that," the redhead replied calmly, her hand gentle as it came to rest on the blonde's knee. "But you have to tell us what happened." 

"Chris... Ch-Christian!" was all the diva could manage. 

Edge's teeth clenched in anger, but he wasn't quite sure what had him so agitated. Still, he knew that whatever had Trish so upset, it had to do with his brother. 

"What about Chris and Christian? Talk to me, Trish..." the redhead said with concern. 

"I... I feel like I'm losing my mind... Which one...?" The petite woman buried her face in her hands, sobbing for a long moment before looking back up. "I think I'm in the middle of a big conspiracy," Trish continued. "I think I'm in big trouble!"   
  
  
  


Part 4 

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	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: I know it's been forever and a day since I've updated this story, but I hope people will start reading it again. I've been coming up with new ideas and promise that all the pieces of the mystery will start to fall into place soon! Thanks to Crimson Coin, Jhanelle and AhitsAnjel for the reviews thus far! You're awesome, especially CC, who's an old friend! ;)_**

The man was utterly silent as he stood just outside the hotel room door. His curiosity had gotten the better of him as he'd witnessed the blonde so overworked and distraught as she'd run here.

Randy Orton's brow furrowed as he edged closer to Lita and Edge's hotel room door. He could barely hear them, but the distinctive sound of Trish Stratus' voice came to his ears, and she sounded frantic. What in hell's name was going on?

The self-proclaimed Legend Killer wasn't quite sure he even wanted to guess as to the answer to that. However, one thing was for sure, and he knew it with absolute startling clarity - he would make certain to find out.

His features going neutral, the young man walked away. He had important business to attend to at the moment.

--

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God," Trish cried in a mantra. She was still gathered on the chair, rocking back and forth a bit. Her teeth were also beginning to chatter.

"Trish, what happened?" Lita inquired as she knelt before her. She gently rubbed her friend's arm, concern pouring through her. "Please tell me." She exchanged glances with Edge, who also looked concerned and confused at the same time.

"She's cracking up," the tall blond man assessed. His remark only earned him a smack on the thigh from his girlfriend.

"He drugged me!" the blonde exclaimed. Her eyes went wide, then alternately narrowed as the horrifying knowledge gripped her. She could see it all so much more clearly now.

"What?" Edge boomed, his face filling with sudden rage. He stooped down to the diva's level, making direct eye contact with her. "Who, Trish, who? Who drugged you?!" he demanded. He would go after the culprit, no matter who they were, and beat the living hell out of them!

She shook her head, tears leaking from her brown eyes as she squeezed them tightly shut. She could see herself clear as day, straddling the man as they had mad, passionate sex... The video camera... There was a video camera. But she couldn't see his face.

"He... He took advantage of me!" she wailed.

Lita looked helpless as she shifted her hazel gaze from Trish to Edge. She was completely lost. She wanted to help her friend, wanted to help her in the worst way, and in _any_ way possible.

"Who, Trish? Who did?"

The little blonde's shoulders shook as her body became wracked with sobs. She bowed her head, lowering it onto her updrawn knees, hugging herself tightly in her position, as though for dear life.

"He raped me... and videotaped it!" she moaned.

Edge's green eyes widened in a combination of shocked horror and fury. By now, his hands were clenched so tightly, if his nails were any longer, he would have been drawing blood from his palms.

"I know who did it," he snarled. The way he saw it, there could be only one culprit, and one culprit _only_...

... Chris Jericho. The cocky blond man had bragged on live national television mere weeks earlier that he was going to videotape himself and Trish having sex when he made good on the little bet he and Christian had had going.

"I'm gonna _kill_ him." The sentence was spoken in the softed yet most deadly tone of voice, and he stalked toward the door. However, Edge was stopped by the voice of Lita, who questioned him as to the identity of the guy he suspected. He told her in an instant, and her eyes widened, while Trish, meanwhile, didn't react in any different way and continued crying.

The redhead jumped up and chased after him before he could slip out the door.

"Edge, wait!" Lita cried, grabbing hold of his arm.

He turned back, toward her and saw begging written in her hazel orbs. She shook her head, and it seemed there was still a hint of confusion on her face.

"We don't know that it was Chris," she reasoned. "Trish hasn't given us a name." She stared at him pleadingly, tugging on him to go back to their friend's side. He complied.

Slowly, the redhead faced the blonde again. She reached out tentatively, touching Trish's knee and patting it. Grateful the Canadian woman didn't recoil at her touch, she issued the question that needed answering.

"Trish... Was Chris Jericho the one who... did this to you?"

The blonde raised her head to stare into her friend's eyes, her face streaked with tears. She shook her head, her lower lip quivering.

"I... I don't know."

Lita and Edge exchanged glances again. It seemed a foreign concept to both of them that Trish would respond in that way.

"Trish?" the redhead began, patting her knee again, ever so gently. She leaned in a big closer to her. "Was it Christian who attacked you?"

Trish began to sob a bit more loudly, and her shoulders shook like crazy. She cried so hard, and her nose was beginning to run. She tried to meet Lita's eyes as she raised a hand, wiping at her nose with the back of it. She tried desperately to find her voice again but couldn't manage it. So, she said nothing.

But her demeanor was enough to convince Edge. Without a word, the tall Canadian turned and rushed to the door, letting himself out of the hotel room. He had a so-called brother to decimate.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: Thanks to CM Punk's sXe Diva, TrishOrton and TrishHardy13 for the last set of reviews. I'm so glad you are all still interested in this story, because I know it's awhile since I last updated. Hope you all enjoy this new chapter. :)_**

"No, man, I honestly don't know... I-" Christian raised his head sharply at the sudden noise. He dropped his cell phone as Edge suddenly burst through the hotel room door, spearing him to the floor. What the hell...?

"You slimy little bastard! What the hell's _wrong_ with you?!" the angry man yelled. He pummeled his brother, who tried to raise his hands to protect his face.

"Stop it, stop it!" Christian cried desperately. He had no earthly idea what was going on. He'd been on the phone, talking, and then this happened out of the blue. He gave Edge a hard shove and managed to make it to his feet. Before he faced his hothead brother again, he retrieved his cell phone and examined it. His call had hung up.

Blue eyes met green. Now that the initial shock of the attack was wearing off, it was replaced by anger.

"What the hell is your problem?!" the shorter man demanded, giving his brother a small shove in the chest.

"What the hell is _my_ problem? _My_ problem is _you_, little brother... You attacked Trish Stratus?!" Edge glared daggers at the other man, seemingly on the verge of beating him again.

"_What_?! You're insane! You really, truly _are_ insane, Edge!"

"Oh, yeah?" the tall Canadian countered. "If I'm so 'insane,' then why did a crying Trish just tell Lita and I that she was attacked?!"

Christian's blue eyes grew wide.

"What?" He swallowed hard, horror coursing through him. "Well, she _did_ act really strange this morning, like she was terrified of me, but-" His words were abruptly cut short as Edge yanked him by his shirt collar.

"So it's true..." the tall blond Canadian muttered in a dangerously low voice. He had his brother literally nose-to-nose with him, to the point that he was breathing on him.

Christian recoiled, squirmed and managed to set himself free.

"Negative!" he shouted. "I would _never_ do anything to hurt that woman! I... I _love_ her."

"Oh, you '_love_' her." Edge crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at the smaller man. "How is that? You 'love' Chris Jericho's girlfriend?" He nearly laughed sarcastically about it, it was so ridiculous.

"Hey, she's _my_ girlfriend, too!"

The tall blond shook his head, eyeing his brother with disgust.

"You sick little shit! What the hell did you _do_ to her?" He made a move as though about to hit Christian again.

"Stop!" the short-haired Canadian yelped, his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm being dead serious, Edge... I love Trish. Okay, so she and I have been having an affair. But I swear, I didn't attack her." He shook his head, blue eyes locked on his brother's orbs. "I would and could _never_ hurt her."

Edge studied him in silence for a moment. Everything about Christian, from his demeanor to his body language to the words he spoke, all seemed sincere. Above all that, his eye contact was direct and steady, even unblinking. And he knew his brother well enough to know when he was lying and when he wasn't.

Christian was telling the truth.

"Okay," Edge breathed, actually hating the fact that he'd been wrong. Making a mistake about his brother only meant that whatever sick piece of garbage had attacked Trish Stratus was still out there. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Edge," the short-haired man replied, though he was still a bit shocked. "Trish told you she was attacked?" he asked, his expression appearing a cross between indignant and sad.

"Yes, she did."

"Where is she? I want to see her."

The tall Canadian nodded, then made a tilt of his head in the direction of the door.

"Come on."

Edge led Christian out and across the hallway to the hotel room he and Lita were sharing. Gently, tentatively, he pushed the door open to see the distraught blonde sobbing in his girlfriend's arms.

"Trish?"

Lita's head whipped up and around in the direction of the voice. She wanted to bolt up to her feet but couldn't, not with her friend weeping on her shoulder.

"What the...? What's _he_ doing here?!" she demanded.

Edge knelt by the redhead's side.

"Lita, it's okay. He didn't do it." He changed his focus to the blonde and ignored the redhead's protestations and questions for the moment. "Trish," he said gently. "Christian wanted to see you. He's worried about you."

The little blonde looked up into his eyes before shifting her teary gaze to his brother. She stayed silent but winced as their eyes met.

"What the hell is going on?" Lita demanded. She stared at each person in the room alternately, annoyed that no one was giving her an answer.

The Canadian diva again burst into tears as she leapt up and abandoned the safety of her friend's embrace. She ran right into the arms of Christian instead, burying her face in his chest as she cried.

"Shh..." He held onto her tightly, stroking her long blonde hair and just rocking her a little.

Edge took a deep sigh and shook his head. Sadly, he met his confused girlfriend's hazel eyes.

"I guess this means Jericho is the guilty party."

Lita simply stared at him with a frown, still slightly in the dark. She really didn't get what was going on.


	6. Chapter 6

Chris Jericho whistled to himself as he made his way out of the arena. He hadn't socialized much that evening, as he'd called Trish on his cell phone and she said she wasn't feeling well. More or less a loner, the blond man was okay with his solitude.

It was fairly late, and it was dark as he emerged from the large building. He carried his bag over one shoulder and trekked to his rental car. As he wended his way through the parking lot, he decided he would call Trish again and see if he could go visit her back at the hotel - if for nothing else just to make sure she was all right.

A slight rustling sound came nearby, causing Chris to glance over his shoulder. He had been one of the last superstars to leave the arena, so his guard was definitely up. A fan lingering and approaching him for a picture and his autograph would be okay, but what if someone had the idea to try and mug him? He felt his body tense up.

"Who's there?" he called. He had his keys in hand as he stood just beside the rental, but he still didn't see anyone. He glanced around and began to wonder if he'd imagined it all. Or maybe it was just the wind.

Jericho shrugged one shoulder as he ignored the odd feeling and turned back to unlock the driver's door. However, that was when someone snuck out of their hiding place and suddenly grabbed him! He found himself being tackled to the ground. His bag flew off his shoulder, but somehow, he still had a good grip on his keys.

"What the fuck...?" He grew angry when he realized who'd attacked him. It was dark, but he was able to make out the guy's face in the shadows. "Edge?"

"Yeah, it's me... What in hell's name did you do?!"

Jericho grunted in pain and gave the tall Canadian a shove.

"Get the hell _off_ me, Junior!" He was suddenly in a royally shitty mood. As the other man seemingly obliged his demand, Y2J suddenly felt himself hoisted to his feet in a most unceremonious manner.

"You son of a bitch!" Edge shouted.

Jericho frowned, confused, but was perfectly capable - and ready - of defending himself if need be.

"What the fuck has gotten into _you_?!" he yelled.

"I think _I_ should be asking you a slightly different question - like who the fuck have _you_ gotten into?!" The Canadian glared at him, one arm up and held back, poised to punch him.

Chris was furious at this point. Forcibly, he freed himself of the other man's grip and stood toe-to-toe with him, glaring straight into his manic green eyes.

"And since _when_ does that concern _you_, jerky?" He stared at the man he'd actually considered his friend for a few seconds but then thought he understood. Beginning to chuckle, he spoke again. "Come on, you can't seriously think I'm messing around with Lita! Edge, you _know_ me, and I'm not the kind of guy who-"

His words were abruptly cut off as the taller, younger and angry man grabbed him by the shirt collar again.

"Don't you play dumb with me... you _know_ I'm not talking about Lita," the man dangerously growled.

"Huh?" Jericho gave him a more perplexed look than ever. His brows knit together in a frown as he shook his head. "I honestly have no clue as to what you're talking about, jerky."

Edge glared into the shorter man's clear blue eyes.

"Does the name 'Trish Stratus' mean anything to you?"

Again, Jericho looked confused.

"It does, but I swear, I haven't done anything to hurt her, if that's what you're thinking." Once again, he removed the Canadian's hands from his shirt collar and straightened up, facing the other man. "I think you'd better tell me what this is all about - _now_... And stop grabbing my shirt!" he shouted.

Edge softened as he studied Jericho. It seemed apparent that, just like he'd done with Christian, he'd made a big mistake in accusing him.

"You mean, you really _don't_ know?"

"No, I don't! Tell me what the hell's happened to Trish!" Chris demanded.

Edge sighed and ran a hand through his long golden hair.

"She claimed she was raped... and she has no idea who did it."


End file.
